Chrysolite Writer of the Year 2017

We, the team at Chrysolite Writerz are delighted and honoured to publish on our site the winning poems of the Chrysolite Writer of the Year Awards Competition – 2017.

Our warmest congratulations to the winners on their great achievement!



First Place Winning Poem – Chrysolite Writer of the Year 2017

REDEMPTION by Ogedengbe Tolulope Impact


Once upon a time…


We walked around on earth’s diurnal course

Like vagabonds without the essence of life

We walked around with the testament of death

Written upon the slates of our souls.


We walked and grew with the feathers of time,

Chasing after the shadows of dead dreams

Like fugitives meandering the tortuous paths

Of dead end with darkened hearts.


In the vanity of our grovelled minds,

We began to build a ladder of babel

For posterity to leave a lasting name

But the almighty God saw the vain attempt

And confounded us with confused tongues.


Amidst those shattered wreckage of illusions,

We were dispersed like dry pollen grains

And scattered abroad the surface of the earth

Like sheep without a shepherd’s touch.


We became lips of confused languages,

Feeding upon the swinish husks of sins

Until the redemption of the purchased possession

Which brought us back into a glorious liberty.


Now we come together in oneness of mind,

Building our world with solid bricks of trust

And despite the diversities of our tongues

We sing together the universal song of love.




Second Place Winning Poem – Chrysolite Writer of the Year 2017

THE WORLD AND TONGUES by Mesioye Affable Johnson


The world is too loose,

& what holds us are just tongues

finding a language in a confused wind

to call fluttering men like us,

– say a boy milked by war

beside his mother drenched in lullabies,

– say a girl who men gives well memories

in depth of a man gargling fame in Lagos,

– say a widow dripping wishes on fine stones,

– say nothing finding home in a city’s smiles

& a city’s smiles finding home in nothing.


Fire is the crow for those who are late

to wake up, like Borno. Water is the

voice of men carrying deserts on their bodies, &

sand is everyone’s tongue : Of men keeping

memories in engraved dates, of boys

too impatient to learn

lyrics of pebbles in their mother’s absence

before singing tombstones. To live is our smiles

running motion of tired leaves,

I tell you, no one is homeless. There are rooms

below our feet calling men to abundance,

calling us people of sands, they are tongues too,

ask Ozubulu’s blue shirt designed in elegies.


Tongues are songs that sings us, & at dusk again,

we’ll lend these rooms our city’s tongue

because the world is a call and response &

we cannot afford to give what we do not have.




Third Place Winning Poem – Chrysolite Writer of the Year 2017

MISUNDERSTOOD by Patience Emudianughe


Your father spoke to your mother and she never understood

She served war when he asked for peace

But How does one find peace in strange words?

How does one serve peace when they hear war?

Her parents told her peace was at home

buried in the words she knew

But she ran towards the war drums

Your fathers tongue was honey

but when words flowed

A thousand thunderstorm ranged


Your father spoke to your mother

and she never understood

She sighted love in a war drum

and she ran to embrace it

Her parents pointed out letters

that she knew

but she buried her mind

And now she serves war even when she wants peace



Posted by Indunil Madhusankha




We, the team at Chrysolite Writerz are delighted to publish the poem, FO EYE WEY SHADO NEVA SEE LAIT on our blog which was placed first in the competition, PIDGINIZATION 2017.

Our warmest congratulations to the winner, OLUWATOBI OPEMIPO PRECIOUS.




Laif na laik cha-me-le-on
E fit bi white, e fit bi lemon
Laif na laik woman wey get belle
E fit born Paul, e fit born Pele.
Bot dis puem wey you dey read
Na only wan kulot e dey wia.
Dis puem wey you dey see
Na only wan song e dey sing.
Dis puem no get mouth,
Bot e get pipul wey e dey greet
Dis puem no get hand,
Bot e get pipul wey e dey hail.
Dis puem na fo boiz dem
Wey eye don see sorrow see death.
Dis puem na fo men dem
Wey hustle hustle neva mek am.
Dis puem na fo pikins dem
Wey belle neva see bread see rice.
Dis puem na fo we two
Wey dey look baba God eye fo clue.
Dis puem na fo widows dem
Wey husbands don kpai comot fo laif.
Dis puem na fo girls dem
Wey mama don abadon fo street.

(Winner, PIDGINIZATION 2017)


Posted by Indunil Madhusankha

CRUISED et CRUSHED, A Story Co-Written by Samuel Amazing Ayoade & Lawal Oluwakemi


Read this poignant story revolving round the pathetic plight of a child who undergoes ruthless abuse at the hands of a pervert.

It emphasizes the need for paying constant attention towards children irrespective of their age, and also the importance of imparting sex education to children starting from a very younger age.

The authors dedicate the story to all those who have undergone incidents of abuse in their childhood.

Download the story as a PDF file here, CRUISED et CRUSHED.

Posted by Indunil Madhusankha

The Song of a Dying Soul – Samuel Amazing Ayoade

Please let go of my hand, son
For I may not make it to the other side
Of the river – I have known weariness
My throat is soaked in bitter throes
I am choked in the cold heat of death warrant
I was a soldier- a gallant one
But my enemy has found me today
I have sold my soul
To vanity (I did not know)
For all I did was a vain entity
My integrity, I kept in vain – an identity
Lost in the sea of insanity
Ayinde, sanity demands that you watch your steps
Labake, allow me to break you today
For definitely, I shall not return from this journey
I am sorry for the rose I gave you
I am sorry for the ring – and those times
When living room became- boxing ring
Labake, I have broken my vows- I am sorry
I wish I had another chance
To rewrite our love story
I never knew it will wreck this way
May I say for the first and last time: I love you
My dove, let your heart perch on the branches of green
I have a garden beyond the golden sea
On which I sowed seeds, not little
But today are these eyes open
That my wheat I sowed amidst thorns
Forgive me Asake – that I could not care for you
I did set my heart on vanities
Daughter, let your seeds dis-virgin the earth
Let go of my hand, son
For I may not make it to end
Of the river- I Have known weariness
My throat is soaked in bitter throes
But I will wait for you at the shore
Beyond the lilies, I’ll stand
Till you finish the course of your soul
Samuel Amazing Ayoade BlazingPen (2017)

BREAKING INTO WATER by Mesioye Affable Johnson

(The Chrysolite Poem of the Month)

I borrowed a garment from a burning river & tried fixing it
into mama’s nakedness but my face was a silent man too
walking alone in a wet street mothered by memories.
there is beauty in everything bitter:
lessons that your tongue stretches into a feet
reaching places tasting like the skin of thorns ,say grave, say Borno,
lessons that you only know home is a den of dreams caged
with flitting aroma from a woman’s lying body,
lessons that one’s mouth is a showroom of plague
where mothers trade in losses tagged on their sons as price for peace,
lessons that peace doesn’t less things that kill a dream
but leaves its bodies to wander in walls of nameless nation, lessons
that safety here only follows the dead & forsakes the living. My sister
was beautiful, no wonder she tastes like a pint of squashed bitter leaf.
bodies like this are light in a widow’s room of watery songs,
bodies like this show best ways to see light between tears of a maiden
whose husband got married to splitters after vow with sandy silences.

to be sweet , forget beauty. so some girls shaded my tears
making collages on my face that looks like their mother’s last sigh,
& there are boys under my chin becoming frames upon which
every bitter cheek is fitted in to build home for cobwebs, so
I wear ashes painted with watercolour from colours of water.

every noon is like forming a paper boat which consumes wreckage;
falling in fragments too heavy to journey the cries of a widowed land
into gallows of dryness. Tonight, we do not know how hungry
dawn will be but we do know dilution in songs is an appetizer
for all men going into the belly of dead things whose crunches
are lyrics wetting the breath of a city strangulated with nightmares.
here, even as an old man you form a boat, you load your children’s dreams
into it, forgetting how heavy in hunger they are & how they could become
a soil while tears, a seed growing on a nation’s chest where you planned
tearing the next noon for your creativity — wave where women wear
odd rhythms for their sons’ silences.

every man here is a singer, locate a microphone in their thighs, cos
yesterday, a man forced songs into another man’s boxer shorts
& I don’t know how to chew lyrics that follows a gun’s voice,
I don’t know the type of music this is &the more I try adding sweetness
to my mouth a bit, I dissolve like a cube of sugar
in hot things like the hell on my face. father was baptised in fire.

Posted by Indunil Madhusankha

Love Forgone by Bliss Akinyemi and Samuel Ayoade


I have waited at ports

For a ship or plane

That would return

My wandering love

But he has not come back

I sealed my lips

And fought my battles

With words unheard

But my silence was disrespect

Called to book with insults

The sound of our favorite song

Became the soundtrack for our

Wrestling feats

And on the dancing floor

I was sorely flogged

My skin became a canvass

Of fading scars and fresh wounds

Bleeding lips and plastered eyes

Still, all I saw was

The boy of my dreams

Whose call was my alarm

And messages my prayer book

The one who stood up for me

And stayed with me

Through thick and thin

Now I know

It was a reflection of it that I saw

A shadow of what I call love

That left at dawn and never returned

Forgetting that my heart is hungry

Hot tears ache down my cheeks

As I stare at the roaming galaxy

Searching through Cupid’s atrophied soul

For a glimpse – a splint of life

I fall

from cloud nine

I am dieing again…

Fantasies sensitised my sanity

For the words you spoke collapsed my

heart muscles

Even though I lost, I thought I was


And so I promised my end and beginning


your long arms

have leaped from tree to tree…

The obsession of your name romanced my


Your fairy mustache became my addiction

Even when Mama denied our meeting by

the plantain stump

Atop my mattress I scribble thy name,

an Utopia

and now

my heart melts

for distance demands earth and water…

Love Forgone…

Image courtesy of AntonioGuillem at

Posted by Indunil Madhusankha

The Chrysolite Anthology


(The Chrysolite Writers Anthology of the Chrysolite Bi-Monthly Contest 2016)

Compiled and Edited by:
Ayoola Goodness Olanrewaju
Samuel Amazing Ayoade (BlazingPen)

A publication by The Chrysolite Team Publications

It’s finally here.

The long awaited Chrysolite Anthology of Poems comprised of a multiplicity of stunning poetry highly appealing to the very core of the reader’s heart.

Download the PDF version of the anthology for free by clicking on the following link.
The Chrysolite Anthology

Posted by Indunil Madhusankha